


Still

by double_negative



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: (probably), Bad Ending, Depression, Isolation, M/M, Mentally Ill Character, Not Canon Compliant, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 01:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7487334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/double_negative/pseuds/double_negative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry is trapped.<br/>There's nothing he can do.<br/>There's nothing he wants to do.<br/>Not anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still

**Author's Note:**

> It was just a matter of time when I get to writing those two.  
> I am truly sorry, because my interpretation of characters is kind of not the most common one.

_I did something I never thought I'd do again._

_I went to God to ask for help._

_But I got no reply._

_I lost my mother._

 

At first, he was bewildered. Nothing more, nothing less. When Henry woke up and found his door crisscrossed with chains and sealed with multiple locks, he just shrugged it off as a delusion of his tired brain. Only when he found the windows stuck and locked just like the door, he thought it peculiar. Just... unusual. When he was being honest with himself, Henry knew. He wasn't scared. He was never scared of anything that happened in those days he came to know Walter Sullivan.

Walter would lead him and anywhere he went, Henry would follow. It wasn't a hard decision, to just surrender his disbelief and chase the nightmarish visions Walter created. Walter would lead the way and Henry would seek after him, each time almost catching the illusory man by his tailcoats.

It was meant to be this way, Henry thought to himself, from the day he moved in, he's been searching for something, anything to break his boredom, his peace and he always failed. He would go out just to become annoyed, lost in the chatter of the people he would never know, anxiousness inside him swelling, urging him to go back, to go home, to lock the door and never step outside again. Maybe that's why when the bloody writing on his walls appeared, he just gave up.

"Don't go out!! Walter."

Just like that. Like Walter somehow knew just how much Henry dreaded the thought of outside world.

It was always like that. Henry would watch people have meaningful, interesting lives through the viewfinder of his camera, entertaining the thought that maybe someday, maybe someday he too would mean something. And that day it finally happened.

He couldn't understand at first, why him, why like this, but the more notes he found, the more clues to what happened in the room 302 all those years before, the clearer everything became. Walter Sullivan was lonely, just like Henry. Walter Sullivan was abandoned, misunderstood, he wanted to find someone who would not pull away, who would take in every impossible and twisted delusion of his and make sense of them all. Someone who would not break, someone worthy of bearing the weight Walter carried alone all his life and sharing it.

At first Henry thought it was a sick joke. Then he hoped he just went insane. It took him a while to understand, this all was meant to be. He and Walter were meant to meet. Like two souls connected with a piece of red string, inevitably gravitating towards each other through time and space, through life and death.

Henry would travel through twisting landscapes, evading horrific monsters and barely managing to keep himself from meeting the demise he realised is unevitable, and for the first time in his life he felt entertained, excited even. It wasn't fun, surely, it was never fun, but panting behind the hastily closed door that separated him from these awful creatures, he found himself thoroughly affected. Emotions he thought he would never experience, rose up to the surface, bubbling up inside him. Unease, doubt and most surprisingly, longing. He would cheat death once again and while tending to his injuries his thoughts would drift to the man behind it all. His looming figure would appear in the dark alleyways, behind his back, in the intricate shadows of tree brances, but each time Henry would reach out towards it, it would disappear as if saying, "not yet".

And Henry understood, descending deeper and deeper into hell, that it's not the time yet and that wait, that anticipation drove him forward like nothing before did. That and the feeling that was the most bizarre to him. Henry felt needed, wanted even. Walted wanted him there, Walter depended on his presence, Walter waited for him, searched for him, for someone who would fit the role and it was Henry. Maybe he was too plain, too dull, too quiet for people around him, maybe he was dejected and depressed, for Walter he was a lifeline, a crucial piece in the puzzle, the one who would make everything right and the thought of that was enough to make Henry move forward, to survive long enough to finally meet someone who had use in him. Someone, anyone who would give his life meaning.

_Anyone,_ he prayed as a child, _anyone, someone, please, help me, stop this, I'm so empty, I'm so alone, anyone._

The older he grew, the more accustomed he became to that feeling of boredom, of tired nothingness, of floating through empty days filled with same old things, same gray walls of a room that seemed like no one ever lived in it, same stale taste of food, same reflection in a mirror. A reflection of a man who looked drained no matter how much he slept, because no matter how much he would sleep, he would see the same dreams. Colors would drain and the same visions would appear before him, like a broken record which only ever acquired scratches that made every scene even more muddled and dreary.

Only when Walter came, it all changed. The dreams, the empty walls, the feeling of loneliness. No matter how gruesome the visions were, they were still better than anything there ever was in Henry's life, so he welcomed it all as long as his boredom receded.

 

Eileen is dead.

That thought of that became more tolerable the more it went through his mind, looping around itself, endlessly repeating like a mantra.

Eileen is dead.

And there was nothing he could do. Or was there? Maybe it was meant to be too, after all she was just another piece in the puzzle. His own life would mean nothing without her sacrifice. There would be no Receiver of Wisdom if there is no Mother Reborn. It was sad, he should be heartbroken, he should, but he is not sure he can feel for her as long as his own fate awaited him just around the corner.

"Walter?", his voice rung out, echoing in the emptiness of his bedroom.

_It doesn't matter anymore,_ he said to himself. _It doesn't matter. I couldn't have done anything to stop this._

The door creaked, but there was no sound to the steps approaching him. Walter still moved like a ghost would, almost floating, weightless even now, when he was tangible, flesh and blood. His figure wasn't an imposing phantom anymore, he was just a man now, just like Henry himself. Henry didn't even try to get up from the floor he was seating on, his back slumped against the gray wall. He just sat there, waiting for Walter to step closer, to meet his gaze, and Walter did.

He lowered his face until it was level with Henry's and now that he could finally see the man close, Henry was surprised. Walter was smiling, his face gentle, almost serene, green eyes pinning Henry in place like a needle going through a bug.

"I couldn't do anything", Henry's voice sounded so broken now, and he was surprised when Walter almost cooed to him.

"Of course you could. but I am truly thankful that you didn't".

Walter rested one hand oh Henry's shoulder, his hand featherlight and so, so cold.

"My dear Receiver, have you enjoyed your trip? Do you remember everything that happened well or should I remind you of something?"

If it wouldn't for his icy skin, the touch could've been comforting. Walter's breath was frigid against Henry's face and he shuddered before responding.

"I remember."

And how could he forget?

"Have you learned anything?"

It was all or nothing, with the man he chased so close to him, finally, close enough so he laid his own hand against Walter's chest, where his heart would be. There was no heartbeat, but maybe it was muffled by the thick coat Walter wore even now.

"I learned that even I could be wanted".

Walter smile grew only wider at that, but still not quite reaching his eyes, his voice so incredibly tender, "Of cource you could. I love you, I truly do, my dear Receiver, otherwise I would have chosen someone else".

Could he really? It didn't matter. He was there, Walter was there. Walter confirmed it himself. He needed Henry to finish the ritual. He needed him and it was all that mattered.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Even now, Henry wasn't scared.

"I am afraid so, my love".

It sounded so nice.

Walter's lips were freezing against his as the man bent down to kiss Henry. They tasted of rust and rain, just like Henry's dreams.

He had a purpose in this world.

As the knife slid in, before the whole world went cold with Walter's embrace, Henry could only feel warmth seep into his heart. Perhaps, it was how happiness felt, he thought to himself with his dying breaths.

He felt so loved.


End file.
